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2013.05.03 - The King and the Rook
Things have been oddly quiet for the Black Rook since the big party came and went. Zoya's been spending a lot of her time getting familiar with this massive new city and all that it offers, quite the change of pace from ol' Moscow. No matter how good (or bad) things might get, she's always got herself a home within the Hellfire network. It's a good thing, too. After she destroyed one of the high speed rail cars out near Suicide Slums a few weeks ago some quiet time seems like just the thing. Not that it's been entirely quiet. The Russkie's sprawled out upon one of the couches, bedecked in only the finest, closest-fit black leather and white gold accessories, winding down with a chilled glass of wine after having made use of some of the club's more primal offerings of flesh. To think, here's a place where it's okay to be a psychotic sadist. At least she hasn't murdered any of the servants or guests thus far. And a good thing too; as much as Sebastian Shaw, the Lord Cardinal and Black King of the Hellfire Club liked Zoya, and her sadistic ways, he really didn't want to have to cover up a murder at his front door. Not that he couldn't, both the Mayor and Police Chief both owed Shaw more than enough favors to silience any investigation. It was just... a mess to clean up, and breaking in a new servant was hard enough without fear that they might die added to it. As Shaw walked into the room in rather casual attire considering what he near always wore: a hand man dark blue silken robe, that was not closed and revealed his rather surpringly muscular upper body and chest hair. A gold sash around his waist, worn to the left side and lime green velvet tights that went just to the calf, with calf high silk socks underneath and black leather loafers. He was holding a glass of scotch in his hand and quirked a small smile at Zoya as he walked in. "I'm hearing rumors from the staff that you are rather enjoying your time here," Shaw said to his Black Rook, "I was very glad to hear this." The glance which follows looks somewhat detached. Drugged, perhaps. Zoya's power did mimic your own fairly closely, a heavy exchange never had to be a bad thing. Your comment causes her head to incline slightly, the chaos-driven woman quite delicately cradling the wineglass in one hand. "They work, then they are worked. Already some are afraid to approach me, is their loss." At least in her eyes. "Seems..too quiet. No? Like only ones screamink are those chained to wall. City should be driven from rest, what you might call ..eh, 'urban renewal.'" Pale violet eyes, heavily masked in matte black cosmetics, give you an inquisitive stare. "Downtime is nice, but feel need to run again. Do you not tire of sittink? Even Frost has school to control." Heck, she even considered signing up for Emma's institute out of morbid curiosity. Sometimes Zoya fit in so well that Sebastian forgot that this was a woman he recruited by hiring her to kill him and then beating the ever loving shit out of her until she was subdued enough to listen to his offer. She was an a hunter and a warrior. Something he needed, but something he shouldn't just leave on the wall until he needed it. Something to keep in mind, there were some potential plans she might be useful in, but none of them were ready yet. Instead for now he just chuckled at her statement and said, "I don't do much sitting, my darling. Just the other day I was angering a God at his engagement party, the day before that I was making deals to finish construction on mechanoids for secret government agencies. Granted it isn't exactly black ops work in the heart of Siberia but I keep myself very busy." He sat in a chair across from his Black Rook and did consider if she was on some sort of drug, and if so what. It's not that he disapproved, far from it, just idle curiosity. Taking a sip of his scotch he added, "All life is a battlefield, the difference is how it is fought." As far as job recruitment goes, it had been one of the more interesting screening processes. Not that Zoya had tons of jobs lined up, though destroying a factory is always good times. Angering a God. At his own celebration! Could it be the same one she had spoken to during the Hellfire party? "Am not sure what else one would do to not be bored to tears. I am told Gods cannot get drunk. Where is fun in that?" So, if you're keeping busy, and Emma's keeping busy... Zoya needs to find herself a hobby. A city this big, with this many people? Yeah, she can do that. "Siberia is overrated. Is cold, dark. Little to do. Is fine, if enjoy hikink through woods." She's probably just tripping on endorphines, whether from pain or something else. The battlefield remark gets her thoughts moving in regard to finding entertainment for herself. It's true, and New York has so many trenches one can lurk about in while finding something else to terrorize. Maybe she'll go play in traffic tonight while the thought simmers further. "So do you need landmine yet, or are you still content to play with your words?" Sebastian Shaw chuckled at Zoya, he had a feeling if he asked her to go outside and murder the first five people she saw she would do it without hesitation. The girl seemed to have no ambition, and that bothered Shaw a bit, something he would have to look into. But the look on his face revealed no such interest, "Gods can get drunk, just not on the drink from this plane of existence. I am fairly certain that he was half-drunk when I ripped open my shirt and asked him to hit me for my transgressions against him." He considered for a moment, he had a few plans in motion. Some that could involve his 'landmine' if that's how she wants to see herself for right now, "Not... yet. But soon. I have several plans in motion, but none have reach the point that I need my Rook as of yet. Though, as much as it pains me to say this... I might have a reconnaissance job for you." He thought of Lex Luthor for a moment and frowned, his stunning choice for the White King had not been going as well as Shaw had hoped. He waved that thought off and said, "And don't think that you work for me, my darling. You are still free to find any sort of 'distraction' you can find. And the Hellfire Knights (OOC NOTE: The mercenary team that works for the club) are always at your disposal." Well now, this is rather surprising news. "You would ruin one of your shirts?" Zoya asks, suddenly all the more intrigued by your words of destruction over the main point of the reply. Ambition is kind of a mixed sentiment. She doesn't lust for the power and money like you do, like so many of the Hellfire Club's regulars do. For her, going out and killing those five people would be its own reward. Her ambition is to cause trouble. She'd bring about the apocalypse if she could. Working -for- you? The thought never crossed her mind! Though on those odd moments when you did have something she could sink her teeth into it tended to be much more interesting than the sort of skirmish she scares up for herself. All of that planning involved, really helps to set the mood sometimes. "Will be sure to remind Veronica next time see her that was my idea and not yours." Here, a normal person would be grinning something wicked. "She is ..very good distraction." Good enough to keep alive for another run later on. "Sometimes to woo a God you have to be willing to make the sacrifices of a hand made shirt by a deceased Italian master tailor. It's the way of the old gods after all, sacrifice what you care about to appease them," Shaw said with a grin as he finished his scotch and put it to the side. He played with his robe with his fingers, "Besides I have other garments made by the same mad, I didn't lose too much... except the chance to got the Asgard it seems." He leans back into his chair and says, "And honestly, the reconnaissance I have for you is a bit boring, but it is an internal matter. I fear I may have made a mistake and I might need someone who can be more ruthless than even I can, to confirm or deny it." He points towards the doors, a french dressed maid nods her head and runs out the door to retrieve a new drink for the Black King. "Am glad was worth cost of admission. Maybe next time will tag along to watch." Oh right. Recon. The matter had slipped Zoya's mind entirely. Veronica really is a good distraction. A faint groan of leather shifting upon leather results as she sits further upright, not poised at attention but looking less like she's going to fall asleep at any moment. "If need to gather information, why not use Emma? She can rip it out of another's head faster than I can draw hammer, and am not slow on draw. Buuut, if need someone to be ruthless..." she trails off with a deliberate lilt, "Might be able to help with dis." Lords. -Recon- work, seriously? You're lucky to have caught her in such a relaxed mood. Arms lazily drape together across the black, oil-like sheen that shrouds her knees, leaning forward as much as the punishing outfit will allow. "So, which sheep is eatink from royal yard today?" "I feel I have made a mistake," Shaw admitted and he wasn't proud of it, "And this mistake hates Emma, and Emma hates him." He took his new glass of scotch, neat, from the french maid he gestured too previously. He took a small drink from it. "Lex Luthor." Shaw smiled, "I want you to spy on the White King and tell me if I've made a mistake. I'm almost certain I haven't but.. his actions make me think I have." Blink. Huh. This completely justifies Zoya's earlier interest, jobs coming from you -are- more interesting. What little she already knows of Luthor isn't lining up to win him anything pleasant. This could be big. Quite possibly irritating, given his usual attitude. If she's going to try and be his buddy for a while then she's going to have to put up with a world full of BS. It's a good thing that she tends not to care. Don't get offended, use that energy to plot revenge. Besides, this could benefit Emma. She kinda likes Emma, minus that whole telepathy thing. "Alright," she replies with another sip of wine before setting the tall glass aside. "Have sometink want to do first. Will go from there." Why? Hell, why -not.- Let the back-stabbery begin. Sebastian smiled at here, "I don't mean for you to run off yet." Sebastian took a large drink from his scotch, looking at Zoya with a smile, "The second that Alexander is more paranoid than me, he will see this beautiful Russian coming tonight. As much as I worry about my choice, I do know he is smart enough to recognize a tail." Shaw stands up, "So, my darling Zoya, my Black Rook; what I suggest is that you wait a day. Follow him, tommorow, when you are ready." "That is good, because I am not," she replies with one of her well practiced but completely fake grins. The compliment isn't lost on Zoya. Heard, but not acknowledged. She knows how good she looks. Even if her street clothes might scream second-hand there's rarely so much as a hair out of place with her. She has more than enough time to be so vain. She nods once, spaces out for a moment while her mind processes that which taxes it, then she comes to stand as well. The endorphines are starting to wear thin. "For now, is time to change. Dis is no longer as fun." Such a manner of corset can only go so far. How people like Emma put up with it is beyond her. Shaw stood up and seemed to understand one serious part of what she was about, "You are my right hand in many ways, in many things." Shaw touched her on the side of her face and added, "The truth is, I trust you to handle this more than I trust Emma. I trust you more." He stood above her still and said, "You and I, we share the same evolutionary bias, and that is not forgotten." There are plenty of women out there that would kill to be in Zoya's position here and now. It's a strange twist of irony that she's here without such desires, to be receiving such attention from you without seeking it out. Not that this, too, shall be ignored. Two fingers come together as she gently taps you square upon your exposed sternum. Within that momentary touch is the colossal force of a speeding Audi coming to a sudden and abrupt rest, its energy stolen, retained, and now redirected back upon you. "Of course not. How could we possibly forget?" Ego. One more quirk which the Black Rook happens to share. Sebastian looked up after Zoya after the hit to his sternum, he just smiled. The entire force of that hit was absorbed within Shaw. Pure Ego, something Shaw could respect, "As much as I appreciate that single moment where you remember that we are the same." Shaw shook his head for a moment, "I remind you that I... can absorb kinetic energy better than you, my darling." "I am aware," Zoya replies in a tone which is almost cold, looking directly back at you with those pale eyes. Better, smarter, stronger, richer... You've been at this for a lot longer than she has. Why must it always be about strength, though? Why can't it ever be just for fun? "Thought would enjoy it. I did." The Russkie kisses the air in your direction before turning to leave, retrieving her wine glass along the way. One has to find their own enjoyment out of life. Like now, she feels the need to get changed then go destroy something significant. Zoya's last words were prefect to Shaw... this was... just for fun. In fact, he would be willing to destroy this entire building against if it meant that the two people who could understand each other by evolution could be, just for fun! He stood from his chair and his glass of scotch hit the ground. Three people moved to clean up Shaw's dropped glasses. He held his chest a bit out to Zoya, "And the truth of the matter is this... hit me again." Shaw pulled his robe apart abit further as if to telegraph his desire. Category:Log